


Rope Therapy

by crushing83



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Badly written accent, F/M, Gags, Knifeplay, Logan does the tying, Non-Sexual Submission, Rope Bondage, Suspension, first attempt at writing a new fandom, mostly picturing movie!Logan, no set point in x-men universe, not an instruction manual, nothing overtly sexual, reader POV, rope, vague descriptions of rope tying, wibblywobbly verb tenses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:38:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are times when he wants it. There are also times when he needs it. Tonight, you know he needs it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rope Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea. Not the best idea. But it kept at me until I scribbled it out. No regrets (yet).

There are times when he wants it: when he wants to wind down, when he's had a great day in the danger room, when he's feeling lighter (feistier) than usual. 

There are also times when he needs it: after a bloody mission, after he's been forced to make a difficult decision, after he's looked death in the eye a little too closely. 

You've learned how to recognise those times and how to prepare for the different types of session based on the signs you pick up on. You know when he wants it, you should wait him out---make him track him down, let his anticipation build. You know when he needs it, you should hurry to his room and wait there for him to return. He's never asked anything of you, but you understand these wants and needs; you understand when he needs to be more than a sharp implement and you understand that he needs to feel more than pain, more than the delivery of pain upon others. 

Tonight, you know he needs it.

You'd seen a couple of the X-Men return from a mission looking thoroughly worn out. You'd all but bumped into Remy, and instead of trying to flirt with you (like he usually did), he held you and apologised profusely for not watching where he was going before disappearing from sight. 

You haven't seen Logan yet, but you know if even Remy was unable to muster up even a smile, it had been a _bad_ night. 

You don't even bother to go to your own room to change. You rush to his room and undress to your underwear. You pull out the bag of rope Logan keeps in his closet and set it on his bed. You decide to kneel in front of his armchair, beneath the hard tie points he'd installed in the ceiling. 

He finds you about fifteen minutes later. 

"You're a sight for sore eyes, darlin'," he mumbles as he closes the door. 

You give him a small smile. 

He sighs and crosses the room. "Stand up and c'm'ere," he insists. 

You rise to your feet. You're a little surprised when Logan hugs you---he doesn't usually hug you until after the demons have been chased away---but you recover quickly and return the embrace. 

"Can I suspend you tonight?" 

"Yes," you reply. 

He nods into your shoulder. "Lemme grab a shower first, then I'm all yours," he murmurs. 

"Take your time," you murmur back. "I'll wait right here." 

"Sit in my chair, so it smells like you when I sit in it later." 

Even though it's not the first time he's made that request (or given that explanation), you blush. You understand his appreciation of good scents (you imagine you'd have one too if your senses were heightened) and are flattered he considers you among them. He rubs the back of your neck as you nod. When he steps away, you take a few steps away, too, until you can slip down into his armchair. 

He smiles appreciatively and backs into his small bathroom. 

You close your eyes and mentally prepare for the evening; you hear the water running, you hear him grumbling under his breath. You wonder if he'll be willing to walk about the mission once he's chased the demons away. You wonder what he's planning for you, for the both of you; you don't worry, though, because you trust him and know he respects your limits. 

When Logan comes back into the bedroom, he's wearing a clean, white tank and a pair of jogging pants. His skin is pink and clean; his hair is wet and glistening. Some of the emotional (psychological, he'd probably argue) shadows are gone from his face. 

You smile. 

He walks over to the bed and starts going through the bag. He pulls out a solid metal ring and snaps it to the carabiner attached to the anchored ring in the ceiling. Then, he starts pulling bundles of rope out. Some are soft, synthetic, and vividly coloured. Others are firm, natural, and tame. You can usually tell what he's looking to do based on the type of rope he decides upon. This time, you're stumped; he's chosen and set aside both types of rope. 

He's chosen a lot of jute and a few bundles of dyed-red nylon. He's also pulled a ball gag to join the rope. You wait for him to ask for you to join him. You go to his room quickly, but you can't push him to be ready; he has to decide in his own time that he's ready to make the journey back to balance. 

"C'm'ere, darlin'," he says with a gesture of his hand. 

You rise to a standing position and take the steps necessary to be standing at his side. 

"Safe words," he demands. 

"Red, yellow, green," you whisper. 

"And if you're gagged?" 

"Middle fingers," you whisper, smiling a bit more. 

He snorts. 

"Hey, you picked it, bub," you tease. 

He snorts again. The corners of his mouth are curled up a bit. He doesn't ask that you behave differently on bad nights; sometimes, your occasionally-smartass remarks help lighten his mood. He only ever wants you to be yourself. And you've learned to not fear giving yourself up to him. 

He doesn't shy away from your sometimes-shaky control on your affinity towards electricity. You don't shy away from his dangerous reputation. 

"You gonna keep sassin' me?"

You shrug. His lips curve into more of a smile. He walks around you in a slow circle. He growls a little; you shiver and duck your head down in reply. He hesitates in front of you, but only stops when he's standing behind you again. 

Logan puts his hands on your shoulders and massages them. You sigh. The tension you'd felt while waiting for the team to return from the mission took up residence in those muscles. You don't know how he could tell that, but you're glad.

He works at those muscles until your eyes are closed and you're nearly purring. Then he slides his hands down to your wrists. You like how his hands hold you captive; you know you'll like his rope, too, and at that thought you feel the shivers of anticipation begin to build in intensity. 

He brings your wrists up into the middle of your back, adjusting your arms so your fingers brush your bent elbows. A short length of soft nylon rope and a few knots secure your arms in that position. 

"How does that feel?"

"Good," you whisper. 

He tugs on your ponytail. You let your head fall back. You lean against him. He brings his hand up and curves it around your throat. 

The sound of one of his claws being pushed out surprises you, but you don't tense. He's brought his claws out to play before; he's done it enough that it's not something that needs negotiation anymore. 

"Easy, darlin'," he whispers warningly. 

You feel the warmth of the adamantium as it gently scrapes up your neck. You know he won't cut you; he's incredibly careful when teasing you this way. He brings the claw blade up your neck before he starts to move it back down again. You open your eyes and watch as he trails the point of it down the centre of your neck, down between your breasts, down to the waistband of your underwear. 

He brings the blade tip back up your body. He circles one breast and then the other. Then he brings the blade over one of your nipples. You whimper. He chuckles. 

"I know the rules, but you're so sensitive, I can't resist a little teasing," Logan growls in your ear. 

"Green," you whisper back. 

He chuckles again. "That's my girl," he murmurs affectionately. 

The teasing continues until you're struggling to stay still. Logan seems to sense your agitation and retracts his claw. He scratches your body with his fingernails for a few more minutes; you can wriggle against those sensations and you do until he stops and secures your hips with both hands. 

"Ready for more rope?"

"Yes please." 

He kisses the side of your head. He releases you long enough to get more rope. He chooses the jute next. The first loops he makes is around your torso and upper arms, near your shoulders. Rope is tied around the loop between one arm and your body and then again on the other side. He does something similar around your arms a bit lower, above your elbows. Your breasts are framed by two bands of rope. It's a snug harness but it doesn't restrict your breathing. 

Once he's done tying your arms to your body, you stretch and squirm a bit. Logan waits for you to test the rope; he stands next to you, one hand on your back, to make sure you don't topple over. 

When you feel the security of the rope, you relax and Logan reaches for another bundle. 

The next length of rope is woven into the existing harness. It's twisted and looped around your body and the horizontal bands; it's brought behind you and wrapped and twisted some more. You don't realise what Logan's done until he grabs some of the rope and tugs. He has made a handle. 

He moves you so you're directly under the tie point. He grabs another bundle of rope, unwinds it, and threads one end through the back of your harness before looping the rest of it through the ring above your head and fastening it. 

Another length of rope is wrapped around one thigh, knotted with a no-slip knot, then threaded up through the ring. He pulls; you lift your leg up in front of you. He secures the end; you lean into the rope and take some of the pressure off the leg still connected to the floor. 

"Does anything pinch?" he asks. 

You shake your head. 

He nods and kneels down in front of you. He loops and knots some rope around your calf. After stroking your knee, he stands, threads the rope into the ring and pulls. Your other leg goes back behind you. If you'd been resting on the ground, it would've looked as if you'd gone down on one knee. 

Logan checks that the ropes are secure and then he spins you a little. 

"How's that feel?"

"Good." 

He spins you a bit the other way, leans back a bit, and watches you. 

"You look great," he comments. 

You smile. "Feels great." 

He walks towards you and holds you still. "I'm gonna try a few more positions, okay?" he asks. 

You lean forward until your head is resting on his chest. "Absolutely okay," you murmur. "Do what you need to do. I'm good." 

"You are," he agrees quietly. 

He rests his head against the top of yours for a minute. Once he seems to have gathered himself again, he reaches for some of the ropes looped around the ring above you. He unties some of them, guides you to release your bent-back leg. He ties ropes to the front of your harness, knots them and loops them through the ring before securing them. He unties the rope at the back of your harness. 

"Ease back," he instructs you. 

You try to follow his instructions, but there's always a point where you struggle to yield and you seem to have found it for the evening. 

Logan notices this. He's used to it---you've been having these nights together for almost a year, since the day he accidentally barged in on you tying your legs up in an attempt to find relaxation through self-restraint---and he knows how to push you past your sticky spots. 

"What is it?" he asks. 

He always asks that first. 

You shake your head and shrug. He exhales slowly as he studies you. He usually eases you past your temporary resistance to the rope. You assume that's what he's going to do because he's moving slowly, studying you. 

But, you're wrong. 

A jerk of the ropes has you swinging a few inches above the ground. You gasp. He chuckles. Another tug on some of the ropes, and you are stretched out on your back. The leg that had been released to the floor has been pulled out straight in front of you. 

You gape at him. Logan grins. 

Sometimes, he just pushes you through it and makes you yield. 

"I've got you, darlin'," he reminds you. 

He checks the ropes again and steps back to the bed. He picks up the gag. You can't decide if you're glad for it or not; he doesn't let you decide and you are glad for that. It only takes a minute and a few quick hand gestures; the ball gag is fitted in your mouth with its straps fastened at the back. 

"You okay?"

You nod. 

He rubs your head with his hand. "Good girl," he murmurs. 

After a quick tug and fastening of the rope attached to your straight leg so that it's pointing upward, he guides you to dip your head back, letting your ponytail slip over your shoulder and point to the floor. He sighs and steps back. He watches you. You close your eyes and feel the grip of the rope, the security in the restraints, and you feel yourself relaxing into the experience. 

Logan sits on his bed and watches you hang. You can hear him breathing. but not much else. It's so quiet and still. 

You hear rustling. Then you hear a lighter. 

The scent of cigar smoke reaches you a moment later. So does the sound of a loose sigh. 

He's finally finding his balanced, quiet headspace again. You smile. The last of the worry you'd been holding onto while he'd gone off with the team is beginning to dissolve. 

The course of events become fuzzy for you after that. You're vaguely aware of him untying and retying some parts of you and leaving you upside down for a moment, before your torso is pulled up so your stomach is facing the floor and your legs are bent up and back behind you, towards the rope ring. 

He leaves you to hang but he doesn't leave you. He sits back on the bed and watches you, at first, but you're aware of his voice after a while, so you know he's started talking. He's talking about the mission; brief phrases catch your barely-there attention. He's talking it out, trying to let it go, and even though he knows you're drifting through the mental quiet you get when tied up, you're glad he trusts you to be there when he tries to let it all go. 

A lot of time must have passed because the next thing you know, he's crouching in front of you, smiling broadly and rubbing some of the drool from your chin. 

"Look at my beautiful, good girl," he murmurs gruffly. "All trussed up, pretty as a picture."

He unfastens the gag and massages your jaw and neck as he pulls the ball from your mouth. You whine as it comes free. 

"Hafta check in, darlin'---"

"Greengreen _green_ ," you whisper hoarsely, urgently. 

Logan chuckles. 

He brushes his thumb over your lower lip. On impulse (most likely brought on by missing the gag), you suck the digit into your mouth. He makes a growling sound of approval. 

"You okay to hang there for a few more minutes?" 

You nod. He still kneels up and checks your hands and feet, though, to see for himself. 

"Close your eyes," he instructs you. "Just drift like you've been doin'."

You obey without hesitation. He stays close, brushing his hands over your body and the rope that he's tied around you. You sigh happily, loving this part of your time together. He scratches and rubs until you're very nearly purring. 

When he feels you sigh and hum with every touch, he starts the process of untying you. He slowly lowers you down to what feels like one of the blankets from his bed and when you're free of the suspension, he pulls you into his arms and up against his body so you're supported by as much of him as possible and so your face is buried in his chest. 

He's warm. 

He kisses your shoulder. 

"Logan," you whisper, "please..." 

You aren't asking for sex---you aren't inclined to, and that's not what your time with him is about anyway---and you know he understands that. Even if you ever are tempted to try for more in the heat of the moment, you know he wouldn't give you more until you both have a conversation away from the intoxicating brain chemistry that rope gives you. 

You aren't entirely sure what you're asking for. 

"I'm here," he whispers back. 

He cradles you close as he works the ropes away from your legs. He rubs his hands over the impressions in your skin and chuckles when you shudder; he gives some of your muscles a light massage and makes a pleased noise when you groan. 

Before moving to untie your body, Logan gently folds your legs against his and covers them with an end of the blanket. 

A vibration lulls you into further relaxation before it registers that he's humming. It's a slow song, but it doesn't sound sad. He carries the tune as he unwinds the rope from your arms and torso, but he lets it fade away as he unties the softer rope around your lower arms. 

Once you're free, he picks you up. You feel the blanket around you, his arms around the blanket. You feel him rise, only to place you on the bed. 

You're about to protest being left alone; you stop short, though, when you realise he's joining you. 

"There we go, darlin'," he drawls quietly, teasingly, when you bury your face in his chest and hold onto him tightly with an arm and a leg. 

"Thank you," you whisper. You lift your head and peek up at him. "It's been a while... I didn't---well, thanks. That was good." 

"I should be thankin' you," he comments. "Today was... bad." 

"Can you tell me?" 

He frowns. "Experiments on mutants. Kids. Only two made it out alive." He pauses and then adds: "We didn't lose anyone on the team. But it was close a couple of times." 

You sigh. No wonder no one had come home with a smile. You hug him close; he returns the embrace. 

"What got me back in one piece was knowin' I had you here waitin' for me," he admits. "I needed this." 

"Rope therapy?"

Logan chuckles into your hair. "Something like that, yeah."

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted [Rope Therapy II](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3364127)...


End file.
